Ring around the rosy
by flecksofpoppy
Summary: Written for the "Iron Chef" Turk fic challenge of the cliche, "the Turks have kids!" Reno is given the undesirable assignment to off a kid.


This is for greenjudy's "Iron Chef" Turk fic challenge on LJ, where we take the worst ingredients possible (horrible cliche tropes, epithets, etc.) and try to make something delicious. Cliche I used was, "Turks with children!" Thank you, as always, to deadcell for beta reading! (Who also pointed out I got in, "sentimental Turks.")

Warning: This is dark. Reno is assigned to off a kid. No graphic violence or anything of that nature, but dark.

Also, this rhyme has a few different variations, so I went with the one that made the most sense to me and were the words I myself used to sing as a kid.

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><p><strong>Ring around the rosy.<strong>

When Reno sits down in their circle, he knows that their first instinct is to run; but the gil jingling in his pocket keeps them exactly where they are. Not everything requires force, which is why Reno was sent on this particular assignment in the first place. _An accident-subtle-not all fireworks and electricity._

"I want to play a game with you," he says to the three slum kids sitting around him. "And whoever wins gets the ten gil I have in my pocket."

They're cautious, and although also curious and hungry, the looks are shrewd. Reno can tell that each of them is trying to decide whether he's an addict, someone to be afraid of, or just insane. Curiosity wins out, though; they _are_ children after all.

The gun feels heavy in his hand when he pulls it out, even though it only has a single bullet in the chamber.

Reno has seen endless variations of people; he's seen more people than he ever thought he would when he lived in this exact same slum and played on this playground. He's seen them dead, alive; seen bastards and legitimate heirs.

He thinks about how the kid sitting to his right looks exactly like the photo Tseng had shown him.

"I'm going to sing a song," he begins, "and you have to sing along with me. You probably know it."

But he _knows_ that they know the words already, that he and they are all really one in the same. Reno used to play this game when he was growing up, although the messy stuff only happened a few times. It was the best way to walk away with enough gil to feed yourself for longer than a day, regardless how large the gamble.

"But the trick is," he says, holding out the gun, "this gets passed around. At the end of each line, whoever is holding it pulls the trigger."

He shifts intentionally so the gil jingles more loudly in his pocket, and he knows from the looks in their eyes that they'll play.

"Ring... around..." he begins slowly, his voice raspy and out of tune, as he passes the gun to his right; it starts around the circle. "...the rosy..."

Reno's never been a very good singer, and it's not much better when the kids join in. The sound of their mingled voices echoes through slides shaped like moogles with yawning mouths and stony eyes.

_'Shut _up_,' Rude slurs as they stumble out of the bar, Reno moaning more than singing the words to a terrible, popular song, 'you can't sing for shit.'_

_Reno's voice just breaks into laughter as he gives up._

_Rude's got an arm draped around Reno's shoulders as he turns them in the direction of the Shinra building, and they trudge down the deserted street._

_'You know...' Rude begins quietly as they walk. It's starting to snow, and Reno suddenly feels a suffocating silence as flakes fall, not even the wind stirring them. 'Same time last year...'_

_'Yeah,' Reno says. He can see the distant glow of a tree that was lit two nights before; he thinks of a green coat, remembers his own anger, remembers the look on Rude's face._

_'She was pretty, partner,' Reno says finally, 'I'll give you that.' _

_Then what's supposed to be a friendly jab: 'You would've had _beautiful children_, you sentimental prick.'_

_Rude is silent for a minute and stops, just standing there, staring at the ground._

_'You think?' he finally asks._

The gun makes its first stop. The kid holding it isn't the one who's going to die, but he doesn't know that; he looks brave, nevertheless. He's bigger than the other two, and probably doesn't have much of a problem standing up for himself, at least against slum rats his own age. Reno wonders if he takes care of the others.

_Click._

He escapes unscathed; everyone seems to exhale at the same time.

"Pocket... full..." Reno starts again, and the gun passes through his hands - their hands, one, two - as he sings the words, "of posies."

This time, it ends up with the second kid. He looks serious and unafraid, and brings the barrel to his temple without hesitation.

_'Wait, so she's only _half_ Cetra?' Reno asks, frowning, taking a thoughtful drag off his cigarette. He's sitting on the edge of Tseng's desk as his superior looks out over Midgar from his high rise office._

_Reno isn't supposed to know half of the information that he's being given, but Tseng's never been one to follow rules that don't suit him._

_'Yes,' Tseng says, hands folded behind his back. 'Half. Her mother was an Ancient.'_

_'Ancient, Cetra, whatever the fuck...' Reno says, rolling his eyes. 'So why ain't we bringin' her in right now?'_

_There's only silence; this is answer enough coming from Tseng._

_'Okay, whatever,' Reno adds, but he's a little quieter than before. 'So like...if she had a kid...does that mean the kid would be able to hear those...voices, or whatever...too? Even though it'd only be a quarter Cetra?'_

_'I suppose,' Tseng says. His voice is the type of calm that makes something inside of Reno shift and shiver. 'I've thought about it in our ongoing mission to capture her.'_

_Reno pauses, takes another drag, and then stubs out his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. He just stares at Tseng's back for what seems like a long time; Tseng's silhouette is slowly becoming indistinguishable against the dark window as the sun sets._

_Neither one of the speaks, until Reno carefully says, 'You've thought about it?'_

_Tseng doesn't answer, but Reno isn't deterred._

_'Only person I ever knew that had a daughter was Veld," he finally says quietly._

_'Yes,' Tseng says, looking out toward where the buildings on the upper plate are beginning to light up and glow against the darkening sky. 'I'm not Veld.'_

_'Only on your word, boss,' Reno says softly, getting up and walking to the door, 'we bring her in on your word.'_

_Tseng doesn't answer._

The kid holding the gun meets Reno's eyes calmly and says, "Make it 100."

Reno nods, and the trigger is pulled without hesitation.

_Click._

"Make it 1,000," the would be gambler in the group says, staring at Reno with an unflinching gaze, and pulls the trigger again before Reno can agree.

_Click._

Reno just raises his eyebrows and then grins. "Sure, kid."

He's always admired fearlessness.

"Ashes..."

The gun starts around the circle for the final time. Reno feels like he's drunk he's singing so slowly now, almost mumbling the word, trying to keep a rhythm so that the kid next to him will be the last one holding it, the one who's going to die.

It's on the second, "_ashes_," that Reno finds himself holding the gun instead, and he realizes that he's not sure now where the bullet is now. He feels dizzy suddenly, like he can't remember how to count, and blames it on the fact that the trigger got pulled twice in one turn.

He brings the gun to his head and waits; he feels all of their eyes on him, his intended victim staring unabashedly.

The vertigo rises, and now he feels like he's floating. He hears Rude's voice: '_You want me to do it_?'

He hears a girl in a bar, somewhere far away: '_It's your genetic responsibility to pass along that red hair.' Feminine laughter, a mirror with a dead man's grin._

He hears Tseng's voice: _'There are no helicopters in this assignment.'_

The kid next to him suddenly has two scars on his face (Reno doesn't know he only has one on his neck), a homemade shank tucked into his boot (Reno doesn't know that it's actually just a sharpened stick), empty eyes that don't glow (Reno doesn't know that this boy has only ever been mildly poisoned by Mako, not infused).

Reno stares right into his eyes and thinks that he's most likely a bastard.

He hears his own voice: "We all fall down."

He smiles and pulls the trigger.


End file.
